Finding Kurisu
by Ketojan
Summary: 13 years after she was taken, Sulik manages to find the location of his missing Sister. With the help of Cheyenne, his friend who promised to help search, so long ago and John Cassidy. Sulik ventures into the State of Texas, which has become one of the biggest slave empires in the United States. Will Sulik re-unite with his sister in this foreign land, bristling with conflict?
1. Chapter 1: Chain Tracks

War... War never changes...

In the early 21st Century, the fuel crisis became very apparent, after a documentary showing the withered husk of the Texas oil fields brought the oil shortage to the attention of the entire Western World... Texas was considered to be ground zero in the consumption race that lead up to world war three.

Ruined by atomic blasts and centuries of anarchism, Texas, like it's 52 brother and sister states was a wasteland. Until the late 22nd century, when a Brotherhood of Steel initiate arrived and changed the face of the land forever.

Cain, a survivor of the Necropolis Massacre saw what Texas was and was able to survive everything that was thrown at him. Texas faced a terrible mutant threat, one that had to be stopped. The Ghoul, almost single handedly fought his way through to their base and destroyed it, saving Texas from the same fate that nearly befell California, forty years prior.

Despite his victory, Cain never reported in to his superiors. He had lost all love for his Brothers and Sisters in arms as he was treated as an outcast and decided to set his sights higher. He returned to Carbon, a small town where he started and helped with the rebuilding effort. He then stood as the town's mayor and though a lot of the townsfolk were weary of Ghouls, many accepted his leadership...

The Ghoul took his seat in the mayor's office and began to rebuild the town, making it better than it was before. Within a few years, he began to rapidly expand across Texas.

Cain was brutal in his conquest, enslaving enemy prisoners who dared to stand in his way and burning them and their towns to the ash if they refused. He and his people left a trail of blood and scorched earth in their wake as they tried to unify Texas.

It wasn't long before this got the Brotherhood's attention and a Paladin, appointed 'Elder' by their superiors, stepped in to the mix and assisted the resistance movement. Her campaign quickly resulted in them taking a large amount of territory in Arkansas. They took in those fleeing Cain's expanding empire as they built up their numbers.

The Elder was commended for her success in capturing the State with few people and resources and for managing to recruit a number of locals into her ranks. It was at this point, twenty years ago, that progress slowly stopped... on both sides.

An aggressive war has been fought for decades now, both the people of Texas and the people of Arkansas have grown tired and resentful of eachother as citizens had lost loved ones and property to the conflict and the benefits of being on either side were growing fewer each day.

Cain, after getting a locomotive steam train up and running, was able to have slaves imported from the north. This made his slave trade considerably easier as he was able to transport a large number of slaves, quickly, efficiently and most importantly securely.

It was on this train that a third party has thrown themselves into the mix, an army of three, smuggling in in disguise as common slaves, huddling themselves in among the masses.

The train went whistling down the tracks, passing the many lamp posts as it went along, casting its golden light into the slits in the side of the boxcar. The cattle were thrown from side to side as the train rattled furiously, frantically looking around as they sped towards their doom. All but three, huddled in the corner of the boxcar, staring down at the ground.

The one to the far left, the smallest of the three, passed the robed man to her right a combat knife, prompting him to sigh as he began to saw through it.

"This ain't exactly first class..." He grumbled as the ropes came loose and fell apart, slowly falling to the floor by his feet before passing them to the man to his right.

"You wanted to see Texas, right?" The woman smirked, showing her pixie-like features, a pointed nose and a youthful, mischievous, yet pretty face, bordered by medium length black hair.

"This **is** first class as far as the Wasteland is concerned, Cass."

The Man sighed and glanced over to her with his good eye as he turned his head, the metal plate in his crown became visible.

"It smells like a Brahmin's a-hole in here."

"It is times like this that we are thankful for Grampy Bone's protection." The Third Man said, letting the cut up rope fall to his feet before passing the knife back to their leader.

"You mean literally, bone nose?" Cass asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Why can't he mean it both ways?" Cheyenne asked, pocketing the knife and sitting back.

"I can't believe you got that past the guards... Where the hell did you hide it?"

"I can't tell you, let's just say it'll hurt to sit down for a few weeks..." Cheyenne shrugged, with a knowing smirk.

"So, we be doin' the heart attack routine again?"

"Again? Seriously? Can't someone else get sick?"

"You're the only one of us who has a heart condition, Cass." The Tribal pointed out, rolling her eyes.

"They don't know that, all three of us could be lying as far as we know."

"You're also the second oldest body here, man. Anyone else wouldn't be taken seriously." Sulik pointed out, seeming a little more amused than anything else.

"You have to be kidding me, do you think that they'd take you seriously anyway?" Cass asked, in a low, irritated growl. Cheyenne sighed and glanced down to the floor, knowing that he was just cranky from the travelling. He'd probably end up apologizing for that remark, later on. Even though Sulik probably wouldn't be looking for one...

"Guys, can we focus?" She asked, sharply.

"We only get one chance at this... We need to get off of the train before it reaches Carbon."

"Carbon... Part of me doesn't want to see it." Cass admitted, quietly, getting a sympathetic nod from Cheyenne.

"Well, things'll get worse before they get better." She sighed, looking up to the drawn out faces of their fellow slaves.

"Speaking of which..." She murmured, looking at her pipboy, through her robes.

"It's time..."

Cass rolled his eye and slowly pulled himself up, clutching at his chest as he staggered from side to side, coughing furiously as he fell to his knees and curled up into a ball. His acting was attrocious, to the point that he was looking like a dog playing dead, thankfully most of the carriage was in the dark, so the guard at the far end couldn't tell.

"What the fuck...?" He asked, marching over to Cass' side.

"Hey! No one said that you could get up!" He snapped, poking the dying old man with the toe of his boot and nudging him a little.

"You listening!?"

Cheyenne didn't need to wait any longer, she lunged forward and dragged her knife across his throat, spraying blood across the room. Cass spun around and stomped down, hard, on the guardsman's leg, resulting in a loud crunch that send his knee jerking backwards, so that Cheyenne could throw him to the ground.

She wasted no time grabbing his rifle, side arm and knife. She passed the rifle to Cass as he was still the best shot of the three. She took the side-arm and Sulik got the duel knives.

"Cut the other slaves loose!" Cheyenne called, ripping the slaver's combat armour off of his chest as she threw her slave rags off and began to tear his clothes off.

"In a minute, we'll have to push the emergency call button... We'll need a slave that sounds like him to answer." She said, glancing around.

"I'll go and check." Cassidy nodded, cocking back the slider on his rifle as he marched off, taking a few extra magazines from Cheyenne.

Cheyenne, her people and the slaves huddled together in the dark, weapons at the ready as the doors were slowly opened and two armed guards and a doctor stood waiting as Cheyenne stepped back, into the shadows.

"You reported a heart attack?" One of the guardsmen asked, climbing onboard.

"Y-Yeah... Over there!" The Slave that sounded most like the guardsman said as Cheyenne stood there, obscured by shadow.

The Guardsman looked over, seeing a slave, lay face down in rags, clutching at his chest.

"Argh shit..." One of the guardsmen sighed, marching over to him, raising his rifles and threatening the slaves with it.

"Nobody try anything! You won't make it out of this boxcar alive!" He threatened as the doctor stepped in for a closer look and the third guardsman stepped in behind him, stood by the door.

The Doctor slowly rolled the dead guard over and quickly saw that his throat was slit, hell, it wouldn't even take a doctor to notice that...

The Doctor gasped and stepped back, the last thing he did before a bullet tore through his forehead, through his skull and brain tissue and flew out of the back of his head, straight into his protector's knee.

Said guardsman stumbled back, straight into the sharp embrace of Sulik, who knifed him in the back and then slit his throat, just before Cheyenne stepped out of the darkness and shot the remaining guardsman in the back of the head before he could fire off a single shot.

"Okay everyone! Move out!" She called, taking the dead guard's rifle and pistol as did Sulik as the slaves made a break for the door. The three of them quickly became part of the crowd and spewed out of the carriage. Cheyenne was somewhat saddened to know that they were only saving one car full of slaves, when there were three but considering how many guardsmen there were and how thorough they were, she couldn't afford to take chances.

This wasn't her territory, these weren't her people... She had to tell herself that repeatedly, as much as she hated it. Kurisu was the priority here, she was the only slave that needed to be saved, the rest...

Cheyenne would have to see...

"Your aura grows weaker Cheyenne! Get movin'!" Sulik called, from the distance as gunfire could be heard, further up. The Chosen One shook her head, ducked down and sprinted on, after her companions...


	2. Chapter 2: The Calculator's Sting

Elder Woolf found herself in the calculator's chambers once again. She could hear the bleeps and boops of the machines as they worked to keep the calculator alive...

The Calculator was not what she had anticipated, it was just a simple terminal, hooked up to dozens of powerful processors and more disturbingly, human brains. Dozens of them floated in tanks, a true abomination of technology, yet, ironically, the one thing that would make this place worth inhabiting...

General Woolf, as she was known back then, approached the terminal without any hesitation. She had heard its voice before, perhaps it was because she had only just started looking at women differently but something about the voice brought her comfort...

"Greetings. I am the Calculator, overseer of the Vault Network. You have proven to be a statistical anomaly that crashed my logistics programs time and time again. It is my admiration of your adaptation and ingenuity that brings you to me. I assume that you would agree that ten Behemoth robots would terminate you and your squad? I have the resources to make such an offensive, but it is not in my interest. After all, you are quite the remarkable human and, more importantly, you have something I need."

"I don't like the sound of that..." Came a voice from behind the General, prompting her to look over her shoulder to see Farsight step forward. Farsight was a lot older than she looked, she was only in her early twenties but looked like she was in her thirties... Woolf had been with her since initiation, Farsight was kind of like the den mother of the group, constantly barking orders. Though, as Woolf grew a lot more confident on the battlefield, she found herself stepping back and allowing her to make the calls, most of which she agreed with.

Still, Farsight was never afraid to speak up...

"It is the organic portion of my mainframe that has become corrupted. The degeneration of my symbiotic brains has corrupted eighty-five percent of main protocol programming. It would take only one brain to bring my organic subsystems back online, but finding a feasible brain has become a problem. I would use a brain from one of Vault 0's residents, but I compute that my CPU would only become less efficient.

However there is another solution. Yours is a brain that can bring balance to my organic neuro-network. I am offering you what you humans call a "dream come true." You can shed your mortal shell and join with me. You will share my power and resources to save humanity and restore civilization from the smoking ruins of the wasteland. Your name will never be forgotten and be synonymous with the word 'hero.'

What say you, warrior? Will you continue to fight me? Destroy me and continue to carve some small, insignificant niche for the Brotherhood? While the Brotherhood may tame a region, they will never have the lasting impact I alone can. The machinery you see before you has the capacity to remove your brain from its mortal vessel. It is in this machine that your journey to save mankind will truly begin. You must hurry, human. My systems cannot function long without a symbiotic brain."

"No fuckin' way!" Farsight snapped, stepping forward and blocking Woolf's access to the terminal, with a stern look in her eye. Woolf was, needless to say, a little startled by this but remained focussed.

"Farsight, it isn't your decisi-"

"Like fuck it ain't! I'm not letting you do this to me!"

Woolf sighed heavily, taking a step forward and holding a hand out, resting it on her shoulder.

"Farsight... You know it was going to end this way... Right? We're soldiers, either one of us could have died at any moment over the last Year or so...

"This is humanity we have to think about..."

" **Humanity!?** Look at what this fucking thing has done to humans everywhere! Are you telling me **that's** what we need!?"

Woolf paused, she didn't have time to debate this, she stepped forward and reached for the console. The Calculator would give the Brotherhood the advantage it needed to push back mutants and other threats back to where they came from or wipe them out completely. Human lives wouldn't be at risk anywhere near as often as they are now, they could make a difference to not only the Midwest but to America as a whole...

Woolf took a deep breath, she knew that here were other options... Her squad members could die in her place... Or... The General, her former mentor who was now strapped to a machine. He was the embodiment of everything he hated and she was positive that he would appreciate the opportunity to serve the Brotherhood again in any way he could.

"Oka-" As she began to speak she felt a sharp sting in the back of her head and everything cut to black. She landed with a heavy thud on the floor before a series of gunshots began to ring out across the room, followed by an explosion...

* * *

Woolf's eyes slowly opened as she looked at her clock, 3:19 AM. She woke up at that time every fucking day... It drove her crazy. She sighed heavily as she rolled out of bed and wandered over to her desk, she didn't wear much when she slept, understandably, her Elder's robes were a bit bulky and uncomfortable and she didn't want to treat them as a high ranking dressing gown.

The Brotherhood Elder took a seat and glanced over the reports of yesterday's battles. At least she had this time to do this garbage, though even the Presidents of the old world had 4-6 hours of sleep, depending on the individual. Woolf was pretty sure that it could effect her leadership...

Though, then again, it wasn't like she could do anything but wait right now. This entire war had been a pointless struggle, trying to empty a flooding basement. All she could do was wait and hope that the assault on Linden had gone to plan...

Taking Linden meant taking Marshall, meant having a foothold on the 20 interstate highway and that meant that they would likely have an easier time of forcing their way towards Carbon.

It baffled her as to how and why Cain picked Carbon... So many cities nearby, from what she heard it was a rundown mess of a place. Yet the Ghoul was adamant that he would start there and expand further out until he reached Arkansas. To think, all of this happened, because of the Brotherhood's stupid, bloody, blind old ignorance. Towards Mutants or anyone who isn't a pure bred, heterosexual human.

Her chapter had been forced to adjust their attitude, it was surprisingly easy as most of them were somewhat fearful of crossing her that they dared not protest.

Shame that blind loyalty didn't last forever...

Woolf's trail of thought was interrupted as there came a knock at the door, prompting her to look around and jump to her feet, wandering over to her Elder's robes.

"Just a moment!"

There was a short wait as she threw her robes on, pulling them down as far she they would go before she sighed, looking in the mirror. She looked like shit but it would do...

"Come in!"

The door opened and a woman stepped in, half of her head was shaved, the other was quite long. She was quite well built, muscular, with a large bust. She had darker skin than most locals, though it wasn't much different.

"We got the report from 'Lenden,' evil warriors cut us up bad but we push 'em back... Barely." She informed her, getting a relieved sigh from the Elder as she hung her head and slowly lifted it, to look the messenger in the eye.

"Thank you, Kurisu... Is the General okay?"

"General be fine, she be the one who sent the message. She was one of few not taken by spirits."

"Good..." Woolf sighed, with a faint smile, turning to face Kurisu.

"I shouldn't worry but... Guess that's my job."

"Spirits say you have little to worry about Fren, at least not about her well being. Spirits say they're more worried about those around her." Kurisu said, getting a faint, off guard chuckle from Woolf.

"Yep, spirits hit the nail on the head there." The Elder said, doing her best to cut her laugh short.

It was funny with Kurisu, many of her peers dismissed her insight as Tribal spiritual bullshit. Hell, a few years ago, Woolf would have as well. However, Kurisu was surprisingly accurate when reciting what her 'visions' told her. She began to wonder if there really were spirits or if she was just very perceptive and intelligent. Maybe it was a bit of both? Maybe she had a window in her mind that could only be opened by a strong will that allowed to her to see the third place...

It was impossible to speculate, the Scribes wouldn't dignify it and to be honest? That was for the best, she didn't want them hurting Kurisu in any way, not when it took so much to coax her out of her withdrawn state that they found her in.

"Thank you Kurisu... You can go now." Woolf said, with a pleasant smile, prompting the warrior to bow, respectably before she turned around, wandering over to the door. She remained blissfully unaware that Woolf's eyes followed her out, mostly focussing on her hind quarters.

After the door shut, Woolf turned back over to the desk and took a seat.

She'd need to send more people up to Linden to keep a hold of the territory...

She just hoped that this was the start of progress and that it wouldn't end the same way that Paris did...


	3. Chapter 3: Target Practice

Cain's sites remained on his target as his flesh-rotten finger slowly slithered around the trigger of his pistol, like a serpent, constricting its prey. He squeezed the trigger, sending the last shot in his round careening towards the practice dummy, it was a good shot but sadly the dummy's head moved and the bullet whittled past his head and cut off a piece of his ear, embedding itself into the post.

Some would say that it was Cain's fault for using live people for target practice, Cain would tell them to shut the fuck up and for the dummy to be more considerate and stay still.

The Ghoul growled and hopped over the wall, picking up a spiked baseball bat, the dummy's eyes widened as he saw him approach, yelling something into his gag as he shook his head, frantically trying to squirm free as he saw the spiked bat approach him. Cain roared in fury and swung the bat, straight at his face, forcing his head to look to the right as the blunt tip of the bat connected with his face and the nails cut his cheeks to ribbons.

The second blow was vertical, the bat was driven down onto his forehead, with a sickening crunch and then, finally, just to ensure that he wouldn't move anymore, Cain grabbed both ends of the bat and rammed it into his face, caving it in and reducing the skull to fragments, inside the loose bits of skin that still held his head together…

"It's almost as if they don't want to get shot." A voice said, coming from behind him and prompting the ghoul to look over his shoulder. Cain simply scowled in response to that, slowly resting his bat on his shoulder as he looked around. Behind him stood a man in a long, dark blue trench coat, wearing a bird mask of some description. It seemed almost like a venetian doctor, though on close inspection one would notice that it also operated as a gas mask.

"Heh… Don't know why not, if I was a rapist piece of fuck, I'd let someone shoot me." Cain shrugged before swinging his bat around and destroying what remained of his target's head.

"Guess not everyone is considerate like me, huh?"

"You said it." The Bird Man said, sounding somewhat bemused, anyone knew Cain on a personal level wouldn't use 'considerate' as a word to describe him.

Cain remained silent as he wandered back over to his side of the target range, hopping over the wall, dividing him and the corpse of his old training dummy.

"How's the girl?" He asked, as soon as he hopped over, getting a faint shrug from the masked man.

"How do you think?" He asked, looking over to the mutilated corpse of her attacker.

"How old was she? Fifteen? Don't think she'd ever get over that…"

"Well, she was smart enough to tell us, she might do well afterall." Cain grumbled, looking back over to his handiwork.

"So… What're you doing down here, Crow?" Cain asked, not that he minded the company but Crow only bothered him if he needed something.

"It's Linden… We had to pull out." Crow said, this resulted in a faint grumble from Cain, though it was obvious that he was expecting this on some level.

"Casualties?"

"High, both sides…"

"Well, that's something…" He observed, turning around as he leant back against the wall.

"We can take it tomorrow."

"What? After the kicking that we just took?" Crow seemed somewhat exasperated, Cain's… recklessness sometimes yielded fruit but not always. It was literally all or nothing with this guy…

"Yeah, after the kicking we took yesterday, they ain't going to expect it and they ain't going to get the numbers up in time to stop us. We have the advantage, we're on our own turf.

It's like Hitler, he bombed the British for years to the point that they were a day away from surrendering but then pussied out on that day and stopped the bombing runs. I ain't gonna do that, we keep assaultin' them and eventually we'll take Linden. Then the highway and we can drive those fuckers out of Texas."

Crow nodded, that seemed… reasonable enough in a psychotic sort of way, he knew better than to question it. Aside from the fact that Cain would probably bash his head in, Cain was far from stupid. He knew what he was doing, hell, he unified Texas. If Cain said he knew what he was doing, chances were that he wasn't bullshitting.

"There's… Something else." Crow added, meeting his gaze.

"One of our trains was stopped, someone sprung the slaves free, from the inside. Looks like a professional job… They didn't free all of the slaves, kill all of the guards or take anything, so we don't think they were doing anything but trying to smuggle into the area."

"You think they're NCR?" Cain asked, cutting through his story like a hot knife through dog shit.

"It's… Possible? Maybe someone else from California… The families or… Those Legion fucks… I don't know, I just know that something is… Going on.

We're looking into it."

"Good, make sure you find out who they are and who they're working for before you kill them."

"Pfft… I'm a professional too, remember?" Crow pointed out, looking to the side before looking back to him.

"Most of the time, yeah." Cain shrugged, with a faint mirk.

"Well, I've got a meeting, upstairs…" He added, taking his first few steps up before looking around as he reloaded his pistol.

"Something tells me it isn't going go very well…"


	4. Chapter 4: Deception

Cheyenne kept her gaze fixed on the map as she slowly traced her finger along the route to Carbon. There was little by way of civilization between this small farm and the city.

"Inquisitor?" An older voice asked, getting the tribal to shudder as she looked up, not expecting anyone to come in. She chose this barn for its isolation, her only companion was a brahmin, who couldn't read or navigate, so her secrets were safe with him... or her... or whatever it was.

The sliding door on the barn was quickly snapped shut as the older man brought a small, metal cup, hobbling towards her. He reminded her of Lenny, the Ghoul she met in Gecko, a man who was often disregarded by most but his needle work was impressive and his counsel was always appreciated.

"Oh, Horace." She murmured, forgetting her cover story. She managed to earn herself free room and board here by telling the owner, Horace, that she was Caine's 'Inquisitor.' She had no idea if Caine even had Inquisitors but the old man seemed to buy it.

Most would rather trust a con artist than unintentionally turn one of Caine's agents away, especially one with a title like that.

"I brought some Brahmin milk, shorry it's not anythin' better but..."

"No..." Cheyenne interrupted him, giving him a kind smile as she broke her gaze away from the map and looked up to him.

"Thank you but... Maybe you should have it, you look like you could use the calcium."

He was somewhat deformed,due to his old age, he hobbled and it looked like his legs were merely scaffolding. They kept him upright but clearly weren't fit for purpose.

"I... No, you're our important guest of honour." The man insisted, though Cheyenne just laughed his determination off.

"Please, I'm merely a freeloader. My work may be important to Caine's empire but so is yours, we need our farmers strong, right?"

"I..." He paused, falling silent, with a faint sigh.

"Forgive me, miss but... I'm struggling to believe that you're... An agent in Caine's service. They normally just take what they want, they aren't usually as kind or as patient as you are."

"Heh, mere thugs. It's true, I'm one of a kind. I'm more or less allowed to do what I want, if it means success for the mission. I've always found that being diplomatic, leaving people with a positive impression of you, it works significantly more than being a... well, a thug." She paused, thinking on it a little, perhaps she was being herself a little too much here.

"I could lamp you around the head, with the blunt end of my spear, if it makes you feel any better."

The Old Man chuckled faintly, it was rather unnatural, given how depressed and sickly he looked, one would think that laughter was impossible.

"I'm pretty sure that my head would cave in."

"Then drink the milk, we don't need farmers with weak bones." Cheyenne insisted before looking back down to the map.

As she did so, the door opened up and John stepped inside, noticing as the old timer knocked the metal cup full of milk back.

"Inquisitor?" John slowly stepped inside, finding it difficult to keep a straight face, when referring to her as that. She really did have a silver tongue and a sharp mind, to pull that cover story off...

"We secured a route to Carbon yet?"

"C-Carbon? Why'd you need a route there?" The Farmer stuttered.

"Slaves..." Cheyenne paused, clearing her throat.

"Some workers escaped, they're likely holding up the road and are willing to attack whoever comes their way. We're trying to find a safe route from here to the Capital, without arousing too much suspicion."

"Oh? Slaves escaped?" The Old Man paused, gently rubbing the stubble on his face with his entire palm.

"Well, I hope that they don't give you too much trouble."

"No trouble at all." Cheyenne shrugged, with a smile.

"We'll be posing as simple travellers but I'd rather take a route that doesn't take us through a deserter's known territory."

"You thinkin' the underbank?" Cass asked, getting a stern nod.

"It's risky but... It'll do."

"Excuse me but, I have dishes to wash." Horace murmured as he shuffled out of the barn, heading back towards the country house and leaving Cass at the door, which quickly closed behind him.

"How do you do that?" Cass asked, almost disapprovingly.

"Lying to people? Keepin' a straight face, whilst you do it?"

Cheyenne just shrugged.

"I don't enjoy it, I'm just good at it. We can't trust anyone out here, especially not those who are afraid of Caine. We have to use that against them, it might seem dishonest but..."

"Nah, I... I get it, better they don't know what's really going on." Cass agreed as he stepped forward.

"Mrgh... Stinks in here. What made you shack up with this Brahmin?"

"I needed to be alone." She admitted, with a heavy sigh.

"I keep thinking about the people that we left behind... I keep thinking how pissed I would've been, if someone escaped the oil refinery but left my Tribe to die."

"This ain't our home, ain't our fight or our problem... Yeah, it's complete shit, I hate it and I'm fighting every fiber of my being but...

We can't make the world's problems our own, we got ourselves a mission that's tough enough and we should be focussing on that."

"We should but... I dunno, it's not like they need me, back home."

"Still, this state is a mess... I'm amazed any of it is still standin'."

Cass found himself sighing again as he turned around, heading back towards the door, he was beginning to feel tired and he knew that, no matter how swimmingly it went, tomorrow would be a big day.

Cheyenne fell into a deep sleep that night, engulfed in strange scenarios of her old life, back in California. She couldn't remember the dream, she found something, tried to work it out and after waking with a start, she was quick to accept that she never will know.

The one thing she wondered was the loud crunch, was that real? It seemed it but...

It was at this point that she heard the sound of thundering feet, racing across the courtyard, outside. Cheyenne was quick to roll out of bed, snatching the knife from under her pillow as she got into a defensive stance.

To her surprise, they didn't come for her...

She then heard some familiar yellings, in the distance. Prompting her to rush over to the Barn door and peer out of it, watching as her two companions were dragged outside and thrown to their knees on the ground, forced to have their hands over their heads.

Their surrounding captors had some rather high quality combat gear on, they weren't Cain's people, unless they were his death squads. Mind you, death squads don't usually take prisoners and they usually customise their armour with spray paint.

"You said there was three! Where's the third!?" He snapped at Horace, who quickly pointed to the barn, prompting Cheyenne to step back.

 _Last time I'm nice to anyone, whilst under cover..._

"Aimes, Shlip!" He commanded, gesturing to the barn and getting a firm nod as they rushed towards the barn doors. Cheyenne simply sighed, tightening her grip on her makeshift blade.

She watched as the barn doors slowly rolled back, prompting her to shuffle off, behind cover, waiting for an opportunity. She crouched down in the dark, taking a deep breath as she readied herself, feeling a slight sting of pain as the crappy handle dug into her flesh.

"Come out with your hands up!" Shlip called as he slowly shuffled inside, scanning the room with the sites of his rifle and taking a deep breath as he moved along. There was a fifty/fifty chance here, that she or he would have the advantage. Sadly, lady luck was a petty bitch and had him turn to the left instead.

Cheyenne quickly lunged forward and grabbed hold of the rifle, prompting him to lift it up as he fired, sending the shot ringing past the Tribal's ear, deafening her and shaking her head up. It was at this point that the barn door was dragged open and the second of the two soldiers burst inside and struck her across the face, with the butt of his gun, cutting and bruising along her cheek bone and sending her straight to the ground, with a heavy thud.

Both Aimes and Shlip surrounded her, pointing their guns at her and keeping her pinned to the ground, much to the tribal's annoyance. She simply scowled as she was dragged...

"Bring her back with us!" The Commander called as he marched towards the from door, peering inside.

"Wolfey will want a word with this one..."


	5. Chapter 5: Court of Miracles

Captured by an enemy combatant...

How embarrassing...

Cass found himself sat in a lock up with nothing but a head full of questions as to how he was talked into this.

Cheyenne had a lot of making up to do...

"John? We and I find ourselves stumped."

"That so?" Cass asked, normally one would make a quip about it not being the first time or some other cheap retort that would make Sulik look less intelligent than he actually was.

In truth, Cass knew better.

Sulik was a lot smarter than most gave him credit for, it was his greatest advantage, appearing so primitive that most would overlook the intelligence and wisdom behind his eyes.

Cass could respect that, he had a similar advantage.

"As to why we weren't sent off to the sky spirits. Isn't that how this Cain fellow does things?"

"We don't know anything about him, not really, he could be enslaving us."

"We and I make poor slaves, too charming."

"Yeah, whatever you say Sulik." Cass sighed as he rose to his feet, stepping on over to the barred window and peering out.

"These people ain't Cain."

"Ah, good. You figure that out?"

"Yes, too militarily advanced. Which doesn't make sense, considering..."

"That they don't know us."

"Yes, we've been captured by the other side... Them Brotherhood Bastards."

Sulik fell silent, feeling a slight tingle in his aura, there was resentment in Cass' heart, directed towards the Brotherhood of Steel.

Though Sulik could say that about a lot of things, including himself.

"We and I... Deceived you."

John paused, slowly turning around with his hands on his hips and pacing around his cell before taking a seat opposite the Tribal.

"Did you now?"

"Aye, we said we wanted to ask you about not being dead. A question which you have no answer, even Grampy Bone is being especially vague about it. You on the other hand do know something...

Why you're here."

Cass fell silent, it seemed fair enough for Sulik to ask this, Cass had no real attachment to Sulik. He had earned his respect, both as a warrior and as a person but in terms of friendship or even comradeship? He wouldn't ride into hell on a train with broken rails for him.

He wasn't Cheyenne...

"I'm gettin' old..."

"That your answer?" Sulik asked, somewhat confused.

"Grampy bone is mighty old, older than both of us put together."

"Grampy bone ain't more metal than man, he ain't got regrets or desires. He's free of that shit, hopefully, some day I will be to." The former bartender explained, looking back over to his cell.

"There's a lot of shit that even I need to make right, things I've... run from for too long." He explained, his eyes fell back to the floor with a heavy sigh.

"I just want to make her proud before I go..."

Sulik paused, he'd wrinkle his nose but it was wrinkled to capacity, instead he just sighed.

"Cheyenne is plenty proud of you man! You is good!"

"Not Cheyenne..." Cass corrected him, pausing to sigh heavily.

"My Rose, Sharon's Rose... rather. She's out there... I thought I was doing Sharon a favour, if I knew she was with child." He paused, shivering a little as he gently rubbed his hand down what remained of his face.

"What kind of dead-beat waste of fuckin' space takes off and leaves the love of his life to raise his kid for him? Leaves his kid without a Father?

How do you even make up for it?"

"Well, you saved the world, that's makin' up for it plenty tin-man." Sulik pointed out, with a shrug.

"I saved the **day** a few times, if I'm being generous but Cheyenne saved the world. **We** saved the world and let's face it, if I wasn't there? It wouldn't have made much of a difference."

Sulik paused, twitching his lips with an indignant sigh.

"Grampy-bone reckons your long term memory be going. You forget the good far too easily."

"No, I don't... I just don't forget the bad either, when I weigh it up, I would like to say that I did more right than wrong but abandoning your daughter in a world like this? Nothing makes up for that..."

As Cass finished speaking, he heard a voice clear their throat besides them, a jailor appeared in the doorway, key at the ready.

"Caine will see you now." He informed them, unlocking door for them and earning himself a confused look from the two of them, that quickly turned to anger on Cass' part.

"Didn't know that this was a waitin' room..."

"Wait, I thought we be nabbed by them Brotherhood folks, with their testosterone and power armour?" Sulik asked, looking incredibly confused.

"Heh, not exactly. We 'nabbed' you as you made your escape... We have some highly skilled operatives."

"Sure you do... Can we go and see the freak now?" Cass asked, growing impatient, talking to the help of a psychopath.

"Word of advice? Address him with the utmost respect as you won't even live to regret it if you don't."

"Respect is a two way street, so long as he shows it to me, we shouldn't have a problem." Cass shrugged, stepping out into the hallway and adjusting his gloves.

"Right this way."

The door to Cain's throne room opened, immediately getting his attention as a group of people dragged a man through the great hall. He struggled furiously as he was pushed around and eventually thrown to the floor by Cain's feet.

The Old Ghoul just looked down to him, tilting his head.

"This the guy you're giving up?"

"No... No, no... I didn't do it! I didn't do it!"

"Shut up! You'll get yer chance to babble in a bit! I was talking to the other cunts." Cain snapped, grabbing hold of his pistol and lifting it up, cocking the hammer back.

"Y-Yeah, it was him..."

At this point, Cass and Sulik were brought into the room, brought down to their knees, with their hands tied behind their back.

Just to be safe.

"Huh... Darcy huh? It was you?"

"N-No! I swear! I've never... I wouldn't be fucking dumb enough to fuck with you, Cain! These guys, they're all... They fucked me over to save themselves!"

"Hmm... Damning testimony. Course, it don't mean shit without an eye witness account from the victim...

Unless. Hmm... Unless I **do** have one..." As he spoke, he slowly lifted a small crumpled note from his side and eyed it.

"A testimony that implicates a party of four, with some... pretty observant descriptions. Hell, this woman's so good, I gave her a job. Dunno what it is but a perceptive gal, like her? I could always use that...

What I can't use are a bunch of fuckin' rapist animals, who can't fuckin' control themselves!"

Cain ended his rant with an almost inhuman growl as he lifted his gun up and shot one of the four in the face, a blonde man, who was the most startled as he probably wasn't paying attention until now.

"Do you think I'm a **fuckin'** idiot!? I give you a fuckin' chance!" Cain snarled as he pulled himself to his feet, getting the next shot ready.

"I gave you a **fucking chance!** You could've owned up to it! You could've kept yer honour but what the **fuck** do you inbred dog fuckers do? Throw the only innocent guy you had at me!" He growled again, firing another shot off at the end one, he looked like the one, who was most afraid.

Well, he looked it but he knew which one was the most afraid, it was the one who hadn't flinched since this whole thing began.

"Do you sorry sacks of shit have **any** idea how fuckin' **low** you look now!?"

"C-Caine! C'mon man, we... We were just scared!"

"You don't know what fear is, you piece of fuckin' shit! You ever seen your town get wrecked by Super-mutants? You ever walked into a vault full of monsters, alone!? You ever been fucked by four of the ugliest knuckle draggers that Texas has to offer!?

NO! You can't talk about fear! It's disrespectful!" He fired off another shot, prompting the last soldier to lunge forward and for the man on his knees to draw his pistol and shoot the final gang rapist in the knee, prompting him to cry out in agony as he fell to the floor, dropping his gun as it slid across the floor, until Caine stepped on it, held it down.

"Nicely done Darcy..."

"Caine, are you okay?" A woman asked, stepping in from the side, she was clad in rather pale makeup, and rather colourful attire. She wore a combination of clothing scraps and iron plated protective gear, especially on her elbow and knees. She looked a little like a punk rocker, from decades gone by.

Well, centuries now...

"Fine Canary, just... Just a little excitement for the ole ticker.

That and we finally figured out where Darcy's loyalties lie."

"Of course... I... I just didn't want to die a traitor, not for them and not for such a... For such an awful thing. I..."

"I know, sorry I put you there... Wanted to give 'em a chance, seems they took that chance and proved that they didn't deserve to live to begin with. You on the other hand have proven you're loyal and quick." He paused, looking over to Canary.

"Hey, Canary! We found ourselves a new praetorian!"

"A... Caine are you sure?"

"Yep, get 'im geared up and have him report to Crow."

"Thank you, Caine."

"Woah and he's polite as well! Shit, might introduce him to the parents." The Old Ghoul chuckled, bringing his hand to his mouth and gently rubbing it.

"Right, now fuck off! Got some more court to put into session."

Darcy quickly nodded as he rose to his feet, shuffling over to Canary's side as she beaconed for him to follow.

"C'mon kiddo, we should leave these guys to it... This is going to get messy." She murmured as she passed the two prisoners. As the two of them left both of the two prisoners were brought to Caine's feet and forced to their knees.

"Well, ain't this somethin'... The two crazy sons of bitches who disrupted my operation." Caine murmured as he slowly rose to his feet.

"I should thank Wolfe for the distraction, my people were able to nab you as soon as you left. No causalities or nothin'... Remind me to give Crow a raise."

"You beat up an old man and a Tribal, in the dark. You should triple that asshole's pay..." Cass grunted, getting a faint grin from the Old Ghoul as she stepped back and gently took a seat in front of them.

"Hmm... Y'know, I was supposed to get the girl as well, care to tell me where she is?"

Cass slowly looked up and glared into his eye with a look of sheer defiance.

"What do you think?"

"I think you don't have many options, you can tell me where she is or I can find her. I can torture you for the info or..."

"Not necessary, we are here for Sister. We are here for Kurisu!" Sulik blurted, getting Caine's attention rather quickly.

"Kurisu?" Caine asked, turning his attention back to Canary.

"Check our records for any slaves by that name! If you find 'em, bring 'em to me!"

Canary nodded before stepping out, prompting Caine to slowly turn his attention back to the others.

"You've come a long, long way... I can respect that, going into the eye of a firestorm to look for one person? That takes balls, a lot of nerve to, considerin' how much you risked pissing me off...

I mean, don't get me wrong, normally you'd be whistlin' through your foreheads but... This is just too fuckin' good. Family re-unions across states and these days, they might as well be on the other side of the goddamn planet.

You two, you're what makes places like Carbon possible! It would be a crime! A fuckin' travesty to kill you here and now." Caine paused, slowly raising his pistol.

"Don't think that'll stop me though..."


	6. Chapter 6: A reunion of strangers

Cheyenne awoke, with a start, almost as if she'd been dropped into reality without a parachute. Her eyes shot open and she looked up with a hurried gasp as if desperate to get back to reality and resume what was going on.

"What… What's going on!?" She gasped, looking around before taking several deep breaths. She was in some sort of cell, featureless. A dingy basement, most likely under some old pizza joint or some shit like that. Her hands were tied behind her back, though she wasn't gagged or placed under immediate guard. In fact, she wasn't sure if anyone was down here at all, in her cell or out in the corridor.

"Helloooo!?" She called out, already getting sick of that dripping pipe, this was worse than Chinese water torture.

She listened out for a few more drips, falling silent as she grew more and more frustrated.

"You Brotherhood boys _seriously_ not going to pay any mind to the _girl_ that you have tied up in your holding cell!? I thought this was what you assholes fantasised about in your barracks!"

Again… Nothing.

The Tribal sighed heavily, falling back into her chair as she looked around. Seeing that she had nothing better to do, she decided to try and teach herself escapism… There wasn't exactly a better time to try it.

Woolf sat alone in her room, analysing the day's figures…

These causalities, it was pure insanity. How did anyone expect her to win this war? How did anyone think that it was worth it?

She decided that she needed to step away from the books, snapping them shut and rubbing her temples with an exasperated sigh.

"Elder Woolf?" A Brotherhood Soldier asked, immediately getting her attention. The Ageing Elder slowly looked up and around, immediately seeing the Soldier, standing before her, grasping at a roll of paper.

"There's somethin' you need to see..."

Kurisu was immediately alerted, as soon as the Chosen One was captured. Woolf needed her by her side for this interrogation, what an honour it would be, too finally stand face to face with the saviour of California, the vanquisher of the Enclave.

For Kurisu though, this was a rather rude awakening, she felt constantly on the verge of falling asleep, constantly yawning and feeling a little sick. Given how late she often worked, Cheyenne's capture meant that she'd get two to three hours of sleep tonight at best.

"Sorry we couldn't bring her to you but you probably understand why we weren't too happy about the prospect of moving her. I mean, we barely caught her alive and her people are still out there."

"People? Yes, they do say that the Chosen One travels with others... Could you describe them?"

"Erm... The snitch managed to catch a glimpse or two 'em, both of them were human, one was about the same age as Cheyenne, a tribal, possibly from her village and the other was old enough to be her dad.

Shit, maybe it was her dad..."

"Possible but unlikely, she met most of her travelling companions out on the road..." Woolf explained, falling silent as she fell deep in thought.

"What brings her out here? Do the NCR truly fear us **that** much? They think we're going to start on California, once we're done?"

"Possibly, maybe they think the conflict will fall out into California." The Driver shrugged as he drove along the road, constantly finding himself looking around for any signs of danger.

"If they are, 'En Sea Are' they pick a strange time to show up." Kurisu interjected, getting a quick nod from the Elder.

"Perhaps they're worried about Cain's expansion, as much as they hate us, they'll probably hate a slave Empire all the more." Woolf shrugged as they came into a small town, most of which was rubble, except for one shop at the center of main street, a shop that was lit up to the point that it could be seen from just outside of the town.

"I expected there to be more here..." Woolf admitted, getting a glare from the driver.

"There was but Cain shelled the fuck out of it... Only thing that survived was an old pizza joint, it's small but it's got a pretty good basement, perfect set up for keeping prisoners."

"You think it'll keep the Chosen One in fer long, fren?" Kurisu asked, sounding somewhat sceptical as she observed the place from outside, slowly pulling in to the area outside of the abandoned Pizza joint.

"I fuckin' hope so..." The Driver sighed, turning the Engine of the hummer off and looking up to Elder Woolf, with a sigh.

"Alright Elder, we're here. Not that you would but I wouldn't advise straying too far from the base, there's all sorts of creatures runnin' around out there. It ain't Denver but..."

"Thank you for your concern, come on Kurisu." She said, rather hurriedly as she stood up and climbed out of the car, seeming quite intent on getting inside.

Inside, a number of Soldiers sat around taking a stock take of their ammo and supplies. It didn't seem very tight ran, this ship but she didn't exactly expect it to be, in fact she was just glad that there was a ship at all.

Two 'eating in' tables were on either side of the room, along with counter top at the back of the room. Behind that was the most senior looking soldier, a Knight, who looked quite old given his position.

"Elder!" He said, hurriedly, saluting the Elder as she entered the room, prompting the other soldiers to jump to their feet and copy his movements, all shouting 'Elder' in Unison to appease her.

"At ease." The Elder said, not really in the mood to be fussed over.

"I was told the prisoner was in the basement?"

"Yes, she's been kicking up a fuss but I've ordered the two men on guard duty to remain at their post and to avoid alerting her to their presence, under no circumstances are they allowed to engage with the Prisoner." The Knight explained, stepping around the counter.

Due to how stretched out they were, few members of the Brotherhood got power armour out here. Knights sported advanced or heavy combat armour and they were grateful for it.

"Good, take me to her." The Elder instructed, getting a hurried nod from the others as they stepped aside, giving her access to the back rooms. Woolf nodded and stepped forward, hand wrapped around the laser pistol around her waist.

This woman took out the entire Enclave at the height of their power, they were better equipped and had way more ground but she managed to destroy them all the same. Woolf might respect her as a friend or a neutral entity but likelihood was that she was going to wind up as her enemy...

Needless to say, she wasn't willing to take any chances, either way...

Woolf made her way down the stairway, suddenly finding herself reminded of the Calculator's base of operations... The dark, cold, grey and unforgiving hallways and the clammy unfeeling cold. The Soldiers were at their post, thankfully, neither of them were lying unconscious wearing her lipstick or anything equally as embarrassing...

"Open the door." Woolf ordered, getting a hurried nod as they stepped aside and put the rustic old key in the lock, twisting it and pushing it open for their Elder to enter.

Woolf quickly strode in, followed by Kurisu and the Knight, both of which were more than willing to let her step in first...

Cheyenne had been rolling her shoulders back and forth for an hour as she rubbed furiously at the chair behind her. The ropes didn't seem to be losing their strength, in fact she was just getting a sore wrist from all of the movement now.

As she looked up, she noticed a loud click and a creek, the door had opened and someone was coming down to see to her.

"Oh thank Christ! You lot are the worst people I've ever been captured by, do you know that?" Cheyenne grunted, shaking her head.

"What about my friends? You capture them as well? You better not have hurt them or Spirits help me..."

"Your companions fled the scene... They were almost shot, however, one of our soldiers was able to identify you by your blue jumpsuit. Considering that you were captured as an enemy officer, you should be thankful to be alive." Woolf said, cutting through her words like a shishkebab through butter.

Cheyenne fell silent, falling back into her chair and thinking on her words. Her captors didn't give her much of a chance to think before asking her something else.

"You are the Chosen, correct? Arroyo's hero? The one who brought the G.E.C.K to California?"

"Seems you already know the answer to that..." Cheyenne observed, with the slightest grin.

"If you know who I am, why am I being tied up? I don't have any bad history with you Brotherhood people, do I?"

"Though this may not be true, you equally have worked very closely with the New California Republic... We thought you might be an agent for them."

"Oh..." Cheyenne said, falling silent in the realisation that that wasn't exactly an idiotic assumption to have made. She and the NCR were pretty close, her Grandfather helped found it...

"Erm... Well, no. I'm not here for the NCR, not sure that they even know I'm here to be honest." The Tribal shrugged.

"I'm here for... Someone."

Woolf found herself intrigued, raising an eyebrow as she folded her arms and leaning against the basement wall.

"Someone?"

"My friend... Sulik, his Sister was taken by slaves, about thirteen years ago now. I promised we'd find her someday..."

"Brother Sulik!" Kurisu gasped, stepping forward, quickly placing herself between Cheyenne and Woolf to make eye contact with the Chosen One.

"He come? He come for me?"

Cheyenne shivered a little, startled by Kurisu's sudden appearance. To think she was on a train, heading straight for Carbon, in search of a woman, who was on the other side of the state!

"Y-Yes! We all did! Your Brother, me and another guy... He came to help me but the point is that we came to save you." Cheyenne insisted, getting the Tribal to look around, seeing Woolf's disapproving glare.

"What will you do, once you've acquired Kurisu?" The Elder asked, prompting Kurisu herself to step aside, falling silent with a look of slight shame.

"Go back to California... This ain't our fight or our war. I mean, I'd like it to be but... It's just not."

"Are the NCR planning to intervene?"

"No... Not that I know of, they only know about the civil war but not how bad it is. They have their eyes set on Vegas as of now." The Tribal explained, with a shrug.

Woolf sighed, heavily, seemingly out of relief. The Brotherhood Chapter of the Mojave were decimated recently in a skirmish with the NCR. Both factions could potentially be wiped out in a matter of months, weeks even.

"I was going to ask how the war was going but... I think I got my answer." Cheyenne sighed, sitting back in her chair.

"How'd Kurisu end up being with you?" The Chosen One asked, finding herself curious. She looked to Kurisu for the answer to that question.

"I be transported on one of them trains, Elder Woolf's forces blew it up." Kurisu shrugged, looking back to the Elder, who nodded to confirm her story.

"Cain transports a lot of goods in those trains, we thought it was a weapons shipment... Turns out we were wrong. If anything, it was a stroke of good fortune, most of those slaves joined up with us to push Cain's forces out of the area. Since most of them were from the same town, we decided to help them take it back and in return, we'd use their town as an... outpost of sorts." Woolf explained, though any glimmer of hope was quickly lost.

"Cain burned the town to the ground and took them all, a few months later."

"They came to our village, came with fire flingers and dragged me and a few others back to the Great Salt Lake, less than a year later we be in Cains hands."

"Wait, so... Cain wasn't the one who took you initially?" Cheyenne asked, finding herself curious.

"Don't know who they were. Think they became Legion long ago." Kurisu shrugged.

"Elder..." Cheyenne sighed, glancing up to her and taking a deep breath.

"If you re-unite Sulik and Kurisu and give them safe passage, back to California? Oh and untie me...

I'll help you win this war."

Woolf looked somewhat surprised by this, she raised an eyebrow.

"What happened to 'it's not our fight?'"

"Well, it ain't our fight... Doesn't mean I can't be part of it. I just don't want to drag my friends into it, they signed up for a rescue mission, not a campaign but me? I'm 33 years old and I just can't say 'no' when an old lady asks me for help, crossing the state. So, what do you say?"

"I say I'm tempted to have you face the firing squad for referring to me as an 'old lady' but... Your offer of help is greatly appreciated. Though you should know, we have virtually no forces, no equipment and nothing even resembling a long temr plan."

"Heh, story of my life Woolfey." Cheyenne grinned.

"All I had was a blue jumpsuit and a pointy stick and I killed the Enclave, get me a suit of power armour, a big weapon and the best soldiers you've got?

And consider this war won."


	7. Chapter 7: To catch a Tribal

Cain flung himself backwards as he emptied his pistols into the oncoming mutants, growling in frustration as he cast the two weapons empty weapons aside before driving his knife into its breast, twisting furiously as it shredded its lung, causing it to spew bile over its would-be prey.

He crawled back, stumbling to his feet as he rolled his shoulders back, getting his rifle at the ready. It was like the Old Man said… Blood, flesh… it was all dripping off of the walls. To think that Necropolis was destroyed to make place for this fuckin' nightmare.

Cain turned back, now fully stocked, only to find himself face to face with the Vault Security Chief, Patty. He was under the impression that she had evacuated this shit hole, some time ago…

"You... it's you! I followed you... to make sure the mutants would never use our research... as a weapon against humanity..."

"Well fuck, that was a mistake." Cain pointed out as he sighed.

"Where were you going? Why didn't you leave with the others?"

"I was... going to the emergency decontamination center... but this thing caught me... it's... it's eating me alive..."

"Emergency decontamination center? What's that?" The Ghoul asked, he didn't entirely get why it mattered, Attis was dead, this time, hopefully, for good. He observed Patty, noticing how she was being restrained by this large, gluttonous pustule, being consumed at a rather inefficient rate.

The fucking thing holding her was an abomination, that much was for certain, it should not have ever existed. None of this fucking shit should have ever existed, this place was a charnel house, made only to produce insults to creation itself.

If he had any left, Cain's skin would be crawling…

"The emergency decontamination center... from there, we can initiate extreme safety measures... in case of an accident, or an invasion... or both...

You must go there... destroy this creature before it grows larger..."

"It'll take something big to destroy this thing. What do I have to do?"

"Start the countdown... once it begins, you won't have much time to get out... before everything inside the vault is destroyed..." Patty seemed rather frantic, not for her own sake as most would but to ensure that she got Cain to do her work for her. He could almost respect her drive for duty, it confirmed that she was one hell of a woman.

She reminded him of his own girl… how long ago was that now? Time just blurred together, in a human mind. Truth is, Ghouls don't really remember the time before the war… not unless they're fixed on it. They remember snippets, the stuff they want to remember but the stuff that they want to forget? That goes… at some point or another, if you don't hold onto it, it's gone. He couldn't even remember his wife's name anymore or his kid…

Was his kid a boy? A girl? Fuck knows… It was just a scorch mark on the streets of Baker's Field now. It's Daddy was a twisted corpse, too stubborn to die but too unfocussed to find a purpose in this cracked, dry, dusty world.

"Destroy everything in the vault... all right." Cain confirmed, looking around for a means to do that, it would be around here somewhere, he didn't want to bother her with his lack of sense, when it came to direction.

"I'm on my way."

"Please..." Patty whispered, almost desperately.

"Before you go... kill me... don't let it eat me... alive..."

How fucked up this situation was… He'd never heard such a request before, a request that could only be uttered, because of this fucking monstrosity, holding her captive.

"There's got to be a way to beat this thing."

"The monorail... it'll take you to a secure location in the mountains... miles away... but you can't leave until you destroy everything in this place..."

Her deflection more or less answered for him… There was no way out of this, no magic bullet, no…

No hope at all…

"I'll take care of it." Cain assured her, slowly raising his rifle.

"Goodbye, Patty."

He took the shot, effortlessly, for the first time, since the war, he felt something… something that was almost alien to him.

Hesitation…

The shot fired off, tearing through her forehead and eventually her brain, throwing her head back before it went limp again, falling forwards and gently leaking is contents down the front of her jumpsuit and onto the floor.

Cain watched, unable to move for a brief moment as the reality of the situation sank in…

Necropolis was for nothing…

Cass' trigger finger slithered furiously as it searched for something to latch onto. It had a mind of its own now but only raw instinct to work on. His fist clenched, like it was forming into rock, ready to break it open on someone's face.

He was awaiting his turn, watching as Sulik stood awkwardly by the terminal, peering over a young woman's shoulder as she scrolled through the list of slave names.

"Mary… Mary… Quite contrary…" Cain dithered to himself as he slowly rolled his shooting hand around in its socket, relishing the clicks and cracks of bone, rubbing against bone and centuries old tendons straining from overuse.

"Ah… When I first saw her, she was just a stroppy teen with eyes bigger than her underfed belly." The Ghoul explained, seemingly without provocation. Cass remained silent, he had been in this throne room for well over three quarters of an hour now. His joints ached, from being knelt down for so long…

"Now she's an accountant for the West's biggest slave outfit. Such a big step up." John observed, glancing up to Cain, who seemed rather amused. It was obvious that he wasn't used to being talked to like this. Sure, he **could** punish Cassidy for it but why would he? It would take a lot to break him and that would be a crime.

"Considering that she was destined to be mutant food? Yeah, pretty big fuckin' leep here." Cain agreed as Sulik stepped away.

"She not be here! De Brotherhood took her!"

"Oooh…" Cain murmured, his expression turned sly, he calculated furiously to try and figure out what kind of advantage could be gained from this. Sulik didn't need a third party spirit to know that he was knee deep in serpents, in this throne room.

"She's out of my jurisdiction then, I'm afraid… She's a prisoner of war."

"You mean 'she was liberated?'" Cassidy asked, detesting Cain's attempt to make it sound any other way.

"That remains to be seen… For all I know, she could be some initiate's plaything. Wouldn't that be shitty?"

"Do you know where she is or do you just intend to waste our time?"

"She was liberated at… Jefferson? Must've been when Wolfe hit Eastern Dalas the first time." Mary explained as she tapped her fingers against the table, scrolling through the seemingly never ending stream of data.

"Could be like… A lead?"

"Could be…" Cain shrugged, looking back to Sulvis, with a sudden suspicious glare.

"If this was the first time that your people had crossed with mine? I'd be lettin' you walk on outta here, might've even given you a few stims to support ya. However…

You owe me, **big**!"

"We owe you nothing." Cass said, firmly, Cassidys always settled accounts and nothing had been agreed between himself and this monster.

"That's where you're wrong, dipshit!" Cain growled, marching over to Cass and booting his chest, knocking him straight onto his back and pinning him down as he loaded his pistol.

"Y'see… If you ain't willin' to square our little debt? Then there's only one other way that I can claim it… Trust me, y'don't want that." He assured him, leaning closer as one eye seemingly grew larger than the other and practically popped out of its socket.

"You _really_ don't want that."

"Erm… Cain?" Mary asked, timidly peering out, over his shoulder.

"I think I know where she is."

The Ghoul paused, turning his full attention to her and staring her out, despite knowing that she was least likely to be beaten to death, it still unnerved her.

"Go on…"

"Do you remember the reports? The ones on Woolf?" She asked, picking up some holodisks and slotting them into the side of the terminal.

"How she always had a tall, stoic, dark skinned woman, by her side?"

"Kurisu…" Sulik whispered, one of few times that Cass had ever heard him give a simple one word answer.

"Huh…" Cain observed, leaning over and reading the report for himself as he left John to think on what he'd said.

"Looks like ol' Woolfy got herself a new pet."

"If Sis be in danger, you be doin' yourself a major disservice, keepin' me 'ere." Sulvis insisted, he seemed to have forgotten his position or perhaps he no longer cared.

"Debts incurred can be squared after!"

Sulik found himself stopping, pausing as he stepped back. Confrontation was in his nature, but brashly making demands… this was a new one.

Cain and Mary simply stared at him, seemingly in disbelief at first but slowly, an unsettling grin crept itself onto Cain's face.

"You got my attention, bone nose… Best make the most of it."

He slammed his nail-bat into the palm of his hand, glaring at Sulik with mad eyes.

Kurisu sat at her desk, finding herself lacking purpose. She examined some papers before sitting back and looking up to the ceiling, with a disheartened sigh.

She wondered how the Elder was doing, knowing her as long as she had done, she knew that something would be wrong. Still, she remained tentative to her duties, knowing that that was the best thing that she could do for her.

The Elder's generosity knew no bounds, at least when it came to Kurisu. Kurisu was not oblivious to the fact that the Elder had some sort of attraction to her, not feelings, surely. She knew that the Elder had a lover once, long ago… It cost her a lot and they haven't been on good terms since, for reasons that Kurisu wasn't entirely sure about.

From what she understood, the one that the General sometimes referred to as 'Farsight' was more loyal to Woolf than to the Brotherhood itself, this wasn't exactly something that pleased Woolf.

Now Woolf was looking to Kurisu for some sort of way to fill the void, something that Kurisu just wasn't able to do. It wasn't that she wasn't willing but… The Elder was a woman, she had no such desires, when it came to the Elder. Hell, the thought of her being looked at, that way, made her skin crawl.

Brother Sulik's friend, Cheyenne, she looked at her in a similar fashion. From what she gathered, it was her darker skin and build that drew most of the attention, plus that naïve little tribal thing that a lot of people liked. In truth, she found it a little insulting, how she was looked at as some sort of thing to exploit but she understood the benefits of being underestimated.

"Kurisu?" Woolf asked, getting the Tribal's attention as she rose to her feet, following Cheyenne's footsteps and going into the Elder's office, peering inside.

"Yes, Elder?" Kurisu found herself a little unnerved, it had been a while since she'd spoken to anyone and she hated the idea of making a bad impression of any kind.

"Cheyenne has requested, despite my assurances that we do not have such things, that we provide her with X-series power armour. I was hoping you could check our supplies and see if there are any in stock."

"Sorry, this isn't exactly a great way to start a relationship, with my best friend's sister, is it?" Cheyenne pointed out, with a sigh before forcing her a smile.

"Y'know, I wasn't able to say it but it was so good, meeting you…"

Kurisu paused, staring Cheyenne down, the way that she spoke… it was like she'd known her for years. Perhaps she could make such a claim, Sulik was a driven man, one of great passion and a drive to protect what was his.

"Thank you, Cho-zen. This one appreciates all you done for her and her stupid brother."

"Heh… Did you hear? He got pissed… in both senses, trashed a bar. I had to pay for his release! Something like… $300? He was worth every penny though." Cheyenne explained, chuckling a little, faintly.

"Glad to hear his spirit hadn't dulled, an angry soul is still a soul." Kurisu said, she seemed almost relieved to hear of his misadventure.

"Sulik-Brotha be not botherin' you?"

"Oh no, quite the opposite!" Cheyenne assured her, her surprise turned into a slightly sly grin.

"We're like one big… dysfunctional family, on the road."

"Your words… You say one thing but'chu mean another." Kurisu observed, getting a confused look from Cheyenne.

"That's… Sarcasm…"

"No, even that covers the meaning."

"Erm… Okay, I remember the Herb Gardner talking like this, after doing some powders… you're not tripping on me are you?"

"You mask your pain, with a smile. You hide your struggles with mirth, this has failed you once before but it is all you know." Kurisu stopped, realising where she was.

"Forgive me… Chosen… Channelling the spirits is…" She paused and glanced up to Cheyenne, catching her confused glare.

"Bah, Hakunin used to talk like that, I kinda missed it."

Despite this, Cheyenne did seem rather focussed on Kurisu, being a tribal herself, she understood that some people did communicate with spirits and whatnot. Cheyenne couldn't help but be sceptical about the whole thing but whatever Sulik and Hakunin dabbled in, it would seem that Kurisu's control in the arts were significantly weaker.

Perhaps her former masters wanted to exploit this.

"You are of Tribal origins yerself, yes?" Kurisu asked, she seemed intrigued.

"You could say that." Cheyenne shrugged.

"Most people forget that these days, it's nice not to be called 'tribal' everywhere I go."

"You find it… Troubling?" Kurisu asked, seemingly confused as she'd had few experiences with those from the outside.

"Sort of… Even Cass had a thing against tribals, until I pointed out that I was one. Should've seen his face, it was actually kind of funny."

"This… Name… The Spirits know of him."

"They do?" Cheyenne asked, looking quite concerned.

"What… What do they say?"

Kurisu put her hand out, slowly guiding it along as she closed her eyes.

"We… We see Brotha-Sulik… He stands in chains, the man with little face knelt by his side… A dead one stands before him, his weapon thirsts for blood." The Tribal explained, opening her eyes.

"Time is… Running out for him! For both of them! To Carbon, we must ride!"

"I doubt that Elder Woolf is going to let us leave so easily… I promised to help her win the war, I'd have to convince her that it would be within her best interests to do so."

"Then do so quickly, Cheyenne!" Kurisu insisted, with a faint sigh.

The Chosen One sighed, falling silent. She didn't like the idea of rushing such a thing but still… she understood the necessity.

"I'll… See what I can do." She added, stepping towards Woolf's office, she couldn't believe she was acting on Kurisu's visions but… Suliks were accurate, her's must be as well, right? If time was short, it could not be wasted trying to take Carbon by brute force alone.

It was time for a more… subtle approach.

Cheyenne knocked on the door and stepped inside, by this point, Elder Woolf was sat at her terminal, behind her desk.

"You need something else, Chosen?" The Elder asked, looking up to the Tribal, with an intrigued look. Cheyenne just grinned, awkwardly.

"Well… Change of plan, it would seem, I'm going to be needing to head out sooner than expected. I'll still need my power armour and weapon but aside from that? I'm good to go."

"I could get you some of our Devil Armour, finest modified suit in the core region. That, combined with a Super Sledge…"

"That will do, just fine. I'll collect them on my way out." Cheyenne assured her.

"Give me a few days and I'll have them returned, good as new."

"Right… Well, we don't have the power armour here, it would have to be acquisitioned and recorded with the armoury before it's dispatched. You will receive it in two or three days." Elder Woolf explained, Cheyenne didn't seem like a woman very familiar with procedure, protocol or anything that had a waiting time.

"Erm… Yeah, in two or three days? Sulik will be a stain on the carpet! I need to get to Carbon!"

"I could have it sent up to the road, instead." Elder Woolf shrugged.

"I can't just have supplies going missing, especially ones as important as these."

"Sure you can! Have you ever seen NCR? It's a like a circus but more sad than funny!" The Tribal shrugged, folding her arms.

"Can't you say it fell off a truck or something?"

"Of course, it fell of a truck and ended up in an outsider's hands." Elder Woolf shrugged.

"That'll look marvellous on a report."

"Point… Taken." Cheyenne sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Might I also add that I do not… approve of you taking Kurisu. She isn't as worldly as you or her Brother…"

"Well, this'll be a great learning experience." Cheyenne shrugged, indifferently.

"Better than staying here and being perved on by an old woman all day."

This got Woolf to flinch a little, furrowing her brow in frustration.

"I… Have always been subtle, when it came to my desires."

"You're about as subtle as a clown, with his cock out." Cheyenne snapped, she'd respect her more if she admitted it.

"I mean, yeah, Kurisu is a nicely shaped, busty lady but her tits aren't going anywhere. They'll be there if you take your eyes off them for a few minutes."

Woolf scowled, not wanting to create a scene, it was this sort of thing that made an Elder look weak.

"I do not like what you are implying… There are many who would take such allegations quite seriously."

"Not as seriously as you, I mean, Jesus Christ…" Cheyenne sighed in disgust, glancing away.

"Enough! As…" Woolf sighed, trying to think of a way to say what she wanted to say without swearing or saying anything unbecoming of an Elder.

"Trying as your methods have been… I understand your point and your intent. I… _have_ been cooped up in here for a long time and Kurisu is… well, a distraction, that indulge in a little too often. I had no idea that it was noticeable, the fact that it is… Well, it's somewhat embarrassing." Woolf stood up, sighing heavily as she stepped around her desk.

"Take the girl… Know that she is not to be harmed, she is under my personal protection, whether the two of you want her to be or not and if anything happens to her… Well, it would be you, I look to for answers."

"Sure… Answers aren't really my thing but I can give it a whirl. Does that mean that we can go?"

Woolf nodded, turning her attentions back to her desk and taking a seat at the terminal.

"Wish Kurisu the best on my behalf… I hope to see her again."

"Yeah… Bet you do." Cheyenne muttered under her breath as she stepped back out of the Elder's office, shaking her head in disgust.


	8. Chapter 8: Winter

It had been a long walk, along the FM 8 W, a long, contrived name that probably once meant something. Cheyenne never understood why they just name their roads with words or numbers, instead it was all of these odd letters, numbers and symbols, like they were trying to confuse whoever wandered their roads.

Not that there was much of a road to speak of anymore. Giant twisters had come through the area, decades ago, tearing through everything in their path. According to Cass, some of them were One Hundred feet tall and were bristling with radiation.

It was what Cass had always wanted to see, it was why he signed on for this but sadly, he must remain disappointed. They were somewhat fortunate that they had died down, they were so grand and impressive that local tribes would worship them as Gods, praying that they would tear through valleys and destroy their rivals.

There were also windwalkers, those who claimed to command the tornadoes and believed to control them. Whether they could or not was not known to Cheyenne or anyone, she suspected even themselves.

The two tribals had put quite a bit of distance between themselves and Lindale, around two hours worth in fact. Once upon a time, this road would have been quite the journey as it had dozens of green trees and a few churches to observe. Now it was void of anything, the Churches were either abandoned or used as a squad by less savoury occupants.

Cheyenne found herself watching the 'Garden Valley' Baptist Church very carefully as they passed it by.

Thankfully, there was a long driveway between her and it, hopefully that would mean that they wouldn't encounter its inhabitants.

"It has been a long time, since we walked for so long, with purpose." Kurisu observed, glancing around the area and getting Cheyenne's attention, albeit briefly.

"I bet… Let me know if you need to stop." The Tribal said, seeming to be quite concerned for her wellbeing, given that Sulik had been looking for her for thirteen years, she imagined that he wouldn't be very forgiving of failure.

"As she watched the Church, from afar, she noticed something move in the windows, a figure appeared, the evening light shrouded his face in shadow. The light did reveal his outfit, a slightly bright duster coat, that was seemingly made of pre-war leather.

The figure just stood, glaring out across the dead fields of the churchyard, fixated on the two of them as they walked on by.

"Kurisu…" Cheyenne whispered, very faintly, so that the man couldn't hear them.

"We're being watched."

"Yes, the Spirits had suggested as such." Kurisu shrugged, indifferently, getting Cheyenne to scrunch her nose and raise an eyebrow.

"Gee, you could've told me…"

"We are always watched, Cheyenne, if I did tell you, you'd likely lose your patience with We and I."

"Lose my patience? Me?" The Chosen grinned.

"Okay, fair point…"

"Stop!" A voice called, from the church, prompting Cheyenne to draw her pistol and raise it in the voice's direction as a man stepped out of the church, hands slowly raising. The man was somewhat younger than Cheyenne and had a rather posh voice. However, his appearance was rather scruffy, his hair was bedraggled in greasy locks and he sported a rather unkempt beard.

His Duster had a number of holes and tears in it, bits of thread jutted out of the side and he seemingly had worn it a long time. Every scratch, every bullet hole, likely told a story. Some of these looked fatal, so perhaps they would be very interesting stories.

"You… You are not mourners? Explain yourselves!"

"Erm… You the Priest of that there church? Nah, we're good thanks, no dead." Cheyenne smirked, gun still pointed at his direction.

"What? Oh… No, I do not tend this church, it is merely a base of operations." The Man explained, shaking his head before looking back down the road.

"I'm… Here for the mourners, the Tribals… they live down this here road. They wait and prey on innocent travellers and then… Well, depends on what they're in the mood for, rape? Murder? It's up to them… You wouldn't have a say in it."

"Pfft… I would!" Cheyenne shrugged, rolling her armed hand around in the joint.

"They wouldn't be the first to try that shit, normally those who do get their balls shot off."

"Perhaps they will meet their match with you. Still, I'd rather not leave it to chance… Would you be interested in hearing a proposition?"

"Well, you are quite… rugged and dashing in your own way but you're a bit too young…" Cheyenne explained, doing her best to let him down gently.

"What? N-No… Just… Shut up a minute and listen. Those on the road? The Mourners? They **will** attack you and when they do, you'll likely be facing some pretty testing odds. So, I propose that we work together. Only, I will require you to go for more than just a few thugs, I intend to wipe out the entire tribe."

"This one speaks of a dance we know too well, Chosen, the steps well known as the Enclaves'." Kurisu warned, getting a firm nod from Cheyenne.

"Agreed… Genocide isn't our thing buddy…"

"You're from Vault 13, aren't you? They will look for your vault and if they find it? It could be your people who are hurt." The Traveller pointed out, gesturing to her jumpsuit, though Cheyenne just shrugged.

"Vault 13 doesn't exist anymore, if they want to screw with its _current_ inhabitants, they can be my guests. I'm sure that'll go well for them…"

"Well… Whatever the case, they hold grudges these folks and they've been nothing but a burden for years now, ever since that bastard, Troels took over."

"Troels? Like… the little goblin people?" Cheyenne asked, seeming somewhat amused.

"No, as in a man, who's too smart for his own bloody good. A man who manipulates people into doing whatever he wants. He's been exiled from most civilized places and now he's taken to the roads, manipulating tribal folk into raiding caravans for him." The Traveller explained, folding his arms and glaring.

"You… Seem to know a lot about this Troels." The Chosen One pointed out, getting an irritable sigh from the Traveller as he shook his head.

"We used to travel together… Not long ago in fact but like most who deal with him, I was betrayed. Believe it or not, this is no vendetta of mine, the fact that he is running this town of scumbags is merely coincidence. I have… a personal stake in this, however, it's not to do with my own history. It's more… Well, it's a little less self-centred than simple revenge."

"Mmmhmm… Why don't I get the feeling that you aren't telling me everything?" Cheyenne asked, sounding almost genuine in her sarcastic curiosity.

"Well… You know what they say about bullshitting bullshitters, right?" He pointed out, with a faint smirk, getting Kurisu to raise her brow in confusion but she refrained from asking.

"Well… If they **are** preying on travellers, we should probably help. It's bad enough that Travellers have to fear the war, they don't need this shit as well."

"Quite right." The Traveller agreed.

"Before we go, I feel introductions are in order. I am Carver, busybody and underwhelmist, at your service."

Cheyenne smirked a little, letting off a faint laugh.

"I'm Cheyenne and she's Kurisu."

"Beautiful names… Tribal names, I take it? Cheyenne is a… Cheroke name, if I recall correctly?"

"Erm… I'm from Arroyo, never heard of a… 'Sherrokey.'" Cheyenne admitted, gently rubbing her neck before Carver laughed a little at her ignorance.

"There was a time where this entire land was ruled by tribals… Whole societies, made up of their own cultures. It wasn't just a pale imitation of a dead age, like it is now. It actually **meant** something."

Carver paused, falling silent, with a wistful sigh, shaking his head as her looked back to the road.

"Let us move on, I… could talk about Tribals all day."

As he lead the way, Cheyenne found herself being grabbed by Kurisu, a tight vice-like grip around her arm.

"Be careful with this one… Lots of bad Karma, shrouds him like smoke…"

"There is something off…" The Tribal agreed, with a quick nod.

"There is a light… obscured by impenetrable darkness… He carries it like a burden." She added, letting Cheyenne go, who gave her a grateful nod.

"C'mon, let's not keep our dark shadow man waiting!" She assured her, stepping after him as he drew a repeater rifle off his back and began to load it, cocking it as he went.

"So." Cheyenne began, getting his attention as she walked alongside him.

"Could you… Tell me a bit about these guys?"

"The Mourners? Sure… They've been around since the Great War, used to keep to themselves, until Troels came along. They live in a place known as 'The Teardrop" Carver began as they passed some collapsed pylons on the side of the road, which were once contained in a compound before the largest of them was knocked down and crushed the others, almost reaching the road, it was that tall.

"They believe that the tear shaped pond, in the ground is an actual tear, shed by their Goddess. They claim that the bombs of the War were her tears and they blighted the land on impact, after so many years of fighting, the Goddess could take it no longer and supposedly died of a broken heart, abandoning the earth."

"That's… Depressingly beautiful." Cheyenne admitted, as nonsensical as it was.

"It is… Of course, they don't exactly do her justice by murdering everyone they see. They claim that, because their Goddess is dead, they no longer need to worry about her wrath. They believe that those who survived the apocalypse are little more than savages and that this is a purgatory. When the tear dries up, then and only then will they be allowed into their afterlife. I guess that translates to 'murder and rape a bunch of caravan drivers and hopefully the Goddess will get over it someday.'" Carver shrugged, he seemed almost scornful in his cynicism towards them, he spoke almost with disgust.

"You sound as if you… hate their culture." Cheyenne suggested, she didn't blame him but it was interesting to her.

"Yes, though Hate is a strong word… They are merely God fearing people and that is what I detest. There is no love in the relationship, everything that they do is out of fear, a knee jerk reaction in response to 'ancient texts' that were probably written by some dumb shit head, who was too high to even proof read what he wrote, nearly one hundred years ago. It's that nonsense that's gotten so many people hurt and killed, it's that nonsense that acts as a key to dishonest bastards like Troels, who use their fear of a divine power to create atrocities.

I hate their culture but if it was just culture, I could accept it but it's not, instead, they insist that everyone should suffer, because they're a bunch of superstitious primitives. This country was built by such fools and equally destroyed by them."

Cheyenne broke away, by now she'd zoned out, it had been a while since she'd met anyone with such a passionate hatred for… well, anything really. She almost admired it, in a land where everyone just looked tired and run down. Including her, she supposed…

She found herself observing the nearby wreckage of the houses that she passed, none of them had held up very well. They weren't very sturdy to begin with and few things could survive an atomic blast, especially not little matchstick houses like these.

She noticed that a few shacks survived, shacks that looked quite cozy… She often considered living in a place like that, one day, when she's too old and fat to fit into her power armour.

The way that they were positioned… she wondered if these people were tribals before the war. Four small huts, banding together, like a couple of animals huddling for warmth. She imagined that there was a strong sense of community in there.

She hoped there could be one again, someday…

As they passed it, Kurisu found herself fixated on a few mailboxes, strewn out onto a small iron bar. They were pretty rustic, one of them had fallen off and was nowhere to be seen and another had a huge hole in it. Still, Kurisu found it somewhat intriguing for a brief moment before breaking away from it, shaking her head.

"They'll never trap anything in those." She sighed, approaching Cheyenne from behind.

"Perhaps a bird?"

"Heh… Nah, those are mailboxes, you used to put packages and letters in there for people to collect."

"I… See?" The Tribal said, though she didn't sound too sure.

"Nowadays, people use them as drop boxes, sometimes as toilets… as I once witnessed in Klamath."

"They seem a bit obvious and inefficient for either." Kurisu shrugged, not really seeing the practicality of it.

"A lot of things of the old world are obvious and inefficient… That wasn't always what they were going for." Cheyenne agreed, with a heavy sigh.

It was at this point that Carver jogged on ahead, stopping just short of a trashed car and kneeling down beside it.

"Ah… Here we are, the gate is just ahead."

"Gate?" Cheyenne asked, kneeling down beside him and getting a sharp nod.

"Yes, we're going around the back, to surprise them. At worst, we'll be able to take out Troels before we have to flee."

"Flee?" Cheyenne asked, with a faint smirk.

"That's not usually how I roll but it's nice to have a contingency plan." Cheyenne shrugged as she hopped over the gate, watching as Kurisu also did so, she didn't seem as agile as she looked, most likely due to a lack of practice.

"I always have a contingency plan, it's saved me more times than I care to admit." Carver sighed, rolling his shoulders back as he stopped to get his bearings.

"This way, try not to be in the open, they'll spot us easier."

"Yessir." Cheyenne shrugged as she stepped up after him, Kurisu found herself fixated on the building, there was something… odd about it. Conflicts of the soul burned, brighter than a second sun and there seemed to be a great feeling of fear, resonating throughout the camp.

Not dread or terror… just anxiety.

She shook her head and ran after them, not wanting to botch their operation, through her lack of focus.

The three of them had a long walk from the gate, to the large shack-like building that lay at the end of the road. It seemed like Carver had quite a lot on his mind as he made his way along, constantly eyeing his repeater rifle and turning his attention back up to the target again, trying not to get distracted from the task at hand.

He found himself being grabbed from behind, a slender but firm hand wrapped around his shoulder and held him back.

"Stop, guard!" Cheyenne hissed, taking a vice-like grasp of him and forcing him to stand still as a guard stepped out, from behind the wall, turning to look towards the path. It happened within the blink of an eye, the guard quickly lost his docile look and quickly raised his weapon, running and shouting frantically.

"He is here! He's come for us!" He called, bounding off, back into the camp.

"SHIT!" Carver snapped, quickly shouldering his rifle and drawing a crowbar from his coat.

"Cover me!" He demanded as he rushed to the door, wrapping the crowbar around the door handle and pulling as hard and firmly as he could.

"C'mon you piece of shit… **pull!** "

"Hey… Erm… Carver? Maybe I should give it a try?" Cheyenne suggested, raising her pistol and shooting the nearest guard as he came running around the corner, clearly these guys weren't very familiar with cover.

"Almost… Got it…" Carver wheezed, keeping up the pressure.

"I would've had it by now!" Cheyenne snapped, growing impatient as one of the guards peered around the corner, prompting her to fire another two shots at him.

"Almost…"

"Fuck's sake, move!" The Chosen One snapped, shoving him out of the way, with a light shoulder barge and stepping in, both hands wrapped firmly around the crowbar and pushing down on the door knob, prompting it to break off and fall to the floor.

Carver quickly readied his repeater before turning around, blasting at the guy behind cover and knocking him to the floor as he backed into the building, Kurisu was quicker to slip in, knowing that she was the most likely to get hit out here.

As Cheyenne slipped inside, she quickly peered around in the nearest rooms, aiming her weapon into them, not finding a soul in them. They didn't even have anything worth looting in them, just building materials, among other things.

She quickly noticed that there was rope in the far corner of the room, bunched up in small piles. The Chosen quickly knelt down, picking it up in bundles and throwing herself back to her feet, running back out, immediately noticing that Carver was doing everything in his power to keep everyone out as they forcefully threw themselves against the door.

"Here! Got the rope!" Cheyenne informed him, pressing her hands against the door, to hold it shut. Carver was quick to grab the rope, bundling it together and wrapping it around the door knob and tying it to a nearby fire extinguisher holder, threading it through the loop that the trigger once jotted out of.

"Got it!" He called, allowing Cheyenne to step away for a moment before they broke away, they ran back into the storage room and grabbed a crate, pulling it back out into the hallway as Kurisu held the door open, to make it easier for them. It was a close call as the rope was just about to give way but thanks to Cheyenne's freakish strength and Kurisu's larger build, they were able to push the crate against the door. It slammed shut, with a click, allowing the two tribals to collapse back down to the floor, panting heavily to catch their breaths.

"Christ… So much for… Whatever the hell that was supposed to be." Cheyenne sighed, swallowing and gasping a few times to keep breathing.

"Okay… That **could've** gone better but… hey, didn't have to take out everyone at once."

"Not so sure about that, they'll be coming around the front." Cheyenne warned, rising to her feet, with her pistol at the ready.

Carver was quick to nod, rifle at the ready, he turned around and marched deeper in, stepping into the door at the end of the corridor.

"Do you think throwing in with him was a mistake?" Kurisu asked, rising herself as she stretched.

"Heh… Sort of? Still, he's right about these guys. They're definitely gearing up for war."

"Spirits say that not all is clear to us yet." Kurisu pointed out as she looked down to the tribal.

"Be careful."

"Heh… and here I thought it was just my cynical ass, who didn't trust this guy." Cheyenne sighed as she stumbled after Carver, into the next room.

"Let's see what they've got."

"Troels!" Carver yelled, the building didn't do a good job of carrying his voice, a fact that he knew, so he just kept marching forward.

"Come out and face me!"

By this point, he'd stepped out, into the back room. The room once served as a canteen of sorts for the workers, in this farmer's market. It was scarcely decorated, with plain white, slightly scorched walls and torn up carpets that were paper thin.

The room was kept for its original purpose, an eating area and crèche for the younger children as evidenced by the toys on the floor, hand crafted from animal furs as well as a few scavenged teddy bears and rattles.

Carver quickly found himself turning back towards the large, painted wall behind him. It would seem that the people were busy, whilst he was away, painting a mural to the Goddess. She was leaning over, shedding tears that flooded the pond, at the center of their camp. A pond that served them all, by keeping them alive and giving nutrients to their crops.

The people down below seemed to do well out of her misery, though none benefitted more than Troels. The exploitative prick…

"Seen anyone?" Cheyenne asked, stepping into the room herself and getting a good look at what had been left behind.

"No, I…" The traveller paused, sighing heavily with a shake of his head.

"Troels is in the office on the other side of this building, the area outside is pretty exposed and if they learned anything from their combat training, they'll be lying in ambush."

"Combat training?" Cheyenne asked, curious as to how he could know that.

"Yeah, Troels… He taught them a lot, y'know? He taught me a few things as I taught him… Well, that's a comforting thought, isn't it? I helped create this tribe, just as much as he did."  
"Yeah…" Cheyenne agreed, folding her arms and glaring at him suspiciously.

"Still, we need to move on, we'll have to make a break for his office."

"With the ambush outside?" Cheyenne scoffed, not liking her odds against what was essentially a firing squad.

"Well, it's either this or be starved out or wait for them to come to us. Don't worry, I… if you follow my lead, we should be fine."

"Kurisu, you should stay here. If we die? You need to get out of here and find your Brother."

"We know the risks, we still have no fear. We be no safer here than we would be out there."

Carver stepped towards the door and cocked his rifle before charging into the fray, he was immediately met with a number of gunshots, as predicted, the traveller was facing an ambush. However, they weren't smart enough to have knelt at the bottom of the ramp that he was on or maybe they were too afraid that he'd just shoot one of them and kept their distance. Either way, he hopped the railing on the ramp, quickly crouching behind a crate as he took a breath.

"We'll go one at a time, don't stop for anything Kurisu!" Cheyenne warned her as she ran out herself and leapt the barrier, rolling into cover as Carver broke free and sprinted towards the next bit of cover, a concrete pillar.

"Kurisu!" Cheyenne called after her as she made a break for Carver's pillar and Carver made a break for a crate, bullets flying straight past his face and behind his head, not knowing if he was going to be hit or if he'd get lucky but knowing that it wouldn't matter, either way, if he wasn't fast enough. All he could do was be fast and stay behind cover.

Kurisu followed and leapt down, behind the first bit of cover, a large wooden crate, that was seemingly empty but quite sturdily made. It would seem that they were designed for heavy goods and could take quite a beating.

She watched as Carver ran ahead, straight into the office on the far side of the warehouse, diving into it as the bullets narrowly missed his foot. He was ready, with his rifle, incase Troels lay in ambush, however, he unfortunately had to remain disappointed.

"Clear!" Carver called, prompting Cheyenne to break cover and sprint for her life at the office, beckoning Kurisu to follow. Kurisu was somewhat quicker than Cheyenne, being slightly younger and more physically agile. The two of them were quick enough to avoid getting hit and found themselves piling into the office area one after the other.

"Don't stop, keep going before they circle around us!" Cheyenne warned, clambering to her feet and rushing into the next room, shoulder barging it open, with her gun at the ready. Upon bursting in, they immediately found themselves met with a figure, a lanky balding man, with a slightly crooked nose, thin bleached hair and blank, vacant brown eyes, who stared hopelessly at them. He immediately threw his hand up, his bucked teeth shook furiously in sheer terror as the two women and his old friend burst into the room.

The smell was obvious immediately, however, the darkness of his pants was a clear indication, that some functions had been sacrificed to keep him standing and to avoid collapsing out of sheer terror.

"Sh-Shit…" He blurted, hands trembling as Carver stepped in, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Yeah… 'Shit indeed.'" The Traveller grunted, ramming the stock of his gun into his gut and causing the terrified man to heal over and vomit up some form of yellow paste that was most likely food at some time, though it didn't smell like any food that Cheyenne was familiar with.

Carver struck Troels across the face again, this time sending him to the floor and knocking him into his chair.

"Carver, don't kill me! I'm sorry, okay?" He snivelled pathetically on the floor, his broad southern accent grew more and more whiney as he showed how distressed he was.

"Shut up!" Carver snapped, pointing the barrel of his gun at Troel's face, however, the cocking sound that he head did not come from his own. He froze and looked to the right, immediately noticing that he was staring into the barrel of a .223 pistol, aimed straight for his head.

"You don't lay another hand on him, until you explain why we're here… Not the crap story you gave earlier, I want you to tell me **exactly** what's going on!" Cheyenne demanded, causing the Traveller to pause, with a heavy sigh. He didn't take his sites off of his prisoner.

"Alright, fine… I wasn't entirely honest, I admit that but I didn't want anything to get in my way, I didn't want anyone thinking that this was me grabbing at power, because it's not!"

"What're you talking about?" Cheyenne asked.

"This man isn't the mastermind you said he was, he's a fucking idiot."

"I know he's a fucking idiot, he's **my** fucking idiot!" Carver snapped, turning his attention fully to Cheyenne now.

"I found this man, half dead and dragged him all the way from Round Rock! I took bullets for him, shared everything that I had with him and like a fucking fool, I thought that would mean something!" Carver paused, shaking his head as he looked down to the pathetic wretch as he curled up on the floor.

"I even… loved him at one point. He was my companion in every sense of the word." Carver scowled, shaking his head and spitting on the quivering Raider.

"I was always worse off for having him, he held me back, ate my food, fucked up the most simple of tasks but none of that mattered to me. I could help him, so I did and… Then we found ourselves here.

I hoped to help the Mourners, help them to survive long term. Instead of being primitive raiders, they were supposed to be more! They could've been like the New Canaanites or your people! Instead? This piece of shit, staged a coup! He told them that they could be more efficient raiders, instead of decent human beings! Not only did he betray me but he also sent this clan to a path of certain death! Once the NCR or the Legion roll through here? This tribe will die! Hell, if an adventurer with a decent gun and armour set rolls through here? They wouldn't survive the night!

This idiot didn't see the bigger picture, he just thought about having a tent full of concubines and veins full of med-x!" Carver immediately broke away from Cheyenne and kicked Troels in his left buttock, whilst he was down, prompting him to moan in a fine blend of misery and anguish as the pain shot through his body.

"He's a fucking dumb animal! He doesn't know any fucking better, than to just take and take! He doesn't care what it does! He doesn't care who it hurts! All the thinks about is his fucking self! He has no concept of empathy, compassion or… hell, even preservation, for himself or anything else around him! He's a dumb, piece of shit and I cannot move on, knowing that he's leading these people to their deaths!"

By this point, he was practically bawling, almost incoherently but he finished by staring Cheyenne down, taking several deep breaths in frustration before allowing himself to calm a little.

"Just… Please, let me take care of him? I cannot live, knowing that I inflicted him onto these people, onto this region. I… Understand your frustrations with me but for everything that he and I were? I cannot just walk away from this, I need to stop him, the only way that I'm sure I can be affective."

"You hope to kill him? Tell yourself it isn't out of hate?" Kurisu asked, sounding almost like she was daring him to tell himself that.

"It's not hate, not really." Carver sighed, shaking his head.

"If… Things could be the way they were, if we could be in that tent of ours again and if we could just… This isn't easy for me to do, I'd give anything to see him smiling at me again, to feel the warmth of his body against mine. It was… a wonderful summer, we spent together but now winter has come for the both of us and I need to ensure that it ends here."

Cheyenne paused, sighing heavily as she scratched her head, what a fine mess she had gotten herself into.

"Alright… You know him best… If you think it's what's best for him then…"

"No, please!" Troels yelled as Carver subtly nodded to Cheyenne, the Traveller slowly paced over him and crouched down by his side, gently taking his hand.

"Please man, you can't do me like this! Not in my own piss!"

Carver paused, looking away as he swallowed.

"I'll… Never forget our time together Troels. I'm… I'm sorry that it came to this."

"I… I didn't mean for any of this! I just want it to be like it was!" Troels blurted out, squirming a little.

"I know…" Carver whispered, sympathetically before pulling the trigger on his rifle. Troels just shook furiously before falling still, perfectly so. The bullet had shot through, under his chin and had blown a small chunk out of the top of his head, killing him instantly. Carver found himself gasping and letting out some soft shudders of pain as he let Troels' hand go and fall back to the floor.

"I'm sorry for making you this way, Troels." He whispered, gently dragging his hand over the dead Raider's face to close his eyes before rising up to his feet.

"Let's… Let's get out of here." He whispered, seeming quite shaken from the ordeal.

"I never want to see this place again."


End file.
